


Pt 7 - Withdrawal

by AmandaHuffleduck



Series: En Passant [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:45:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaHuffleduck/pseuds/AmandaHuffleduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus' continuing adventures in the Muggle world - or - the gods of luck really don't like him...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pt 7 - Withdrawal

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published 2006/2007 on the Lupin/Snape-Lurve-Community.
> 
>  _Well and truly_ operating outside of the canon.
> 
> Beta'd by Alestrel.
> 
> Usual disclaimers.

"Have you ever slept with a woman?"

Snape repressed a grimace of irritation: Trusker's probing of his 'past' was unsubtle as always.

"Why?"  
"Just curious."

The wizard wasn't fooled by the investigator's disarming grin. Trusker couldn't bear a mystery and he was ruthless in his pursuit of information. An admirable trait when it came to his work but bloody annoying on a personal level.

"Yes, I have."  
"... and?" Trusker goaded genially. "What did you think?"  
Snape huffed.  
"Women are not my preference but it wasn't revolting."  
"Was it just the once?"  
"None of your damn business!" Snape growled.  
"All right, don't bite my head off." Trusker rumbled a laugh. He straightened his tie then smoothed broad palms over the silvery stubble of his hair. "Right, I'll see you downstairs."  
"I shouldn't be long, considering you've _used all the hot water again_."

Never a ray of sunshine at the best of times, Snape felt particularly aggrieved if he couldn't bathe properly in the mornings. The thought that he'd fallen so readily into taking hot water for granted again rose and was banished. _Take each day as it comes_.

"You did have the option to come to my place -" Trusker was leaning against the door frame.  
"Yes. Yes. Go to work."

He knew he was indulging his irritability and judging by Trusker's smirk the investigator knew it as well. Scowling ferociously Snape filled the bathroom's small basin with barely lukewarm water. That would have to do – better than a cold shower.

"Don't forget I need the Carstair's report this morning." The investigator was watching him with amusement tinged with frank appreciation. Snape could practically feel the man's gaze lingering on his arse.  
"It's ready to print."  
"Good. Right." Trusker cleared his throat, visibly pulling himself back to the day's business. He disappeared from the doorway. "See you in a bit. I'll put the kettle on."

Snape smirked at himself in the foggy mirror; Trusker could be so obvious...

  


London's watery Spring had progressed to a particularly fierce Summer. Snape had been working for the Trusker Investigation Agency for a little more than three months. It had taken two months for him to stop waiting for Trusker to dispense with his services; two months to realise that he was actually a useful employee and not being kept around out of charity. Even half-expecting to be tossed out onto the streets at any moment – or possibly because of it - Snape had worked hard in those first weeks, throwing himself into the challenge of living and working with Muggles. To his surprise, and carefully guarded pleasure, he'd found himself adapting without having to fake expertise as often as he thought he might. 'Investigation' could be tedious work, but it was work, paid work, and he'd been able to reknit the shreds of his dignity.

For the most part his new life flowed on day to day without a hitch or bump - aside from the occasional aggravation represented by the infernal technology he had to work with – but occasionally he'd catch himself thinking: _I can't do this. What the hell am I doing here?_ In those moments of panic his heart would pound, the breath would disappear from his lungs and he'd find himself mentally flailing as his centre tipped off-balance. He was able to claw back from those lapses in confidence through sheer bloody mindedness, and a disgusted sneer at himself for being pathetic. There was no problem: he was coping admirably, more than able to integrate himself into this world... even if he did sometimes feel like a fraud waiting to be discovered.

Of everything, though, his relationship with Trusker was the least difficult to negotiate. In their dealings with each other there was a clear distinction between work and pleasure. Or rather, though work would occasionally trickle over into pleasure – it wasn't unusual for them to discuss cases over a meal or in that period of comfortable relaxation between sex and sleep – but when they were working they were strictly employer and employee, with no distractions. Trusker was a good companion, sociable and undemanding emotionally, and he was as content with the sexual element of their... friendship as Snape was himself. Snape liked the uncomplicated nature of their relationship, and if every so often he would ache for something deeper, something he'd left behind in the aftermath of violence, he could lose himself in Trusker's rapidly expanding repertoire of sexual skills and forget.

And so, several tumultuous months after leaving the Wizarding world, Snape had few complaints. He had somewhere to live, companionship, the regard of his work colleagues and a job that was challenging enough to keep him from getting bored. Life was agreeable. Of course it couldn't last.

  


~oOo~

  


The light was fading from the long Summer day as the heat finally dissipated to merely uncomfortable. Trudging along the laneway back to the flat, the heavy carrier bags banging against his legs at every step, Snape was nevertheless glad to be away from the crowds on the high street. He didn't know what it was about heat that made Muggle behaviour even more pointlessly irritating than usual.

His steps slowed as he approached his gate; there was someone else in the laneway. He couldn't make out who it was but a faint prickle of magic washed against his skin: his own magic roused from dormancy, ready to engage the threat.

"Severus." The voice was harsh, with no attempt at cordiality.

A crabbed and angular wizard stepped away from the fence. His robes had once been as crisp as house elves' labour could make them, Snape remembered; these rags hung like moth-eaten curtains.

"Elias."  
"You've been hiding. Our Lord doesn't like cowardice." His wand was trained unerringly on Snape's chest.  
"Our Lord is dead, Gallymot." Snape feigned boredom.  
"And whose fault is _that_?" Elias Gallymot spat.  
"... Harry Potter?" It was offered with a smirk calculated to enrage.  
" _No_! It was you, you faithless... _half-blood scum_!"  
"That's still one step above Mudblood, Elias." Snape needled the dark wizard. "I wasn't there when the Dark Lord fell."  
"You should have been!" Gallymot raged. "He trusted you above us all!" The wizard's jealousy threaded his words like poison and Snape relaxed fractionally. His one time compatriot was merely accusing him of desertion...

Gallymot continued to rage, spittle flying from his mouth as he disgorged a torrent of spite.

"How did you find me?" Snape brusquely cut across the wizard. It was a pertinent question: it was unlikely that he and this raving madman were the last of the Dark Lord's sympathisers left alive. An uncanny craftiness slid across Gallymot's face.  
"I have my secrets as do you, Severus."  
"What do you want, Gallymot?" Snape still sounded for all the world as if this confrontation was beyond tedious. It was a tactic that had worked well in the past to deflate some of the less self-assured Death Eaters.  
"I want you to pay for your betrayal, _Snape_." Gallymot grated with hideously anticipatory pleasure.  
" _My_ betrayal?" Snape scoffed. "I at least was at the battle. Where were _you_?"  
"I was following orders – "

Snape missed Gallymot's next words. Over his shoulder he saw Trusker's car pull into the lane.

 _Merlin's Balls, not **now**! He was early_...

Gallymot, distracted by the vehicle's headlights, glanced over his shoulder.

"What's that? A Muggle?" He flashed Snape a sneer. "Cowering amongst the Muggles, Severus? Really..."

He turned and pointed his wand almost casually at Trusker, who'd emerged cautiously from the car.

" _Avada Kedav-_ "

Snape distantly heard the bottle of wine in one of the carrier bags smash on the ground as he dropped the impediments. His wand flew to his hand and Gallymot slammed sideways into the fence as he was hit with a trio of defensive hexes.

"... Smith?" Trusker's voice was pitched high.

Snape glanced between the unconscious Dark Wizard and the apprehensive Muggle.

_Shit_

.

"Sorry, Trusker." He murmured as he shifted his aim.  
" _Stupefy_." The investigator crumpled backwards. " _Obliviate_..."

Putting aside his concern for Trusker for the moment – and his exasperation at the Muggle's _appalling_ timing - Snape darted forward to neutralise any potential threat from Gallymot. The Death Eater was alive but unconscious and breathing shallowly. The thin trickle of blood pooling inside his ear might be cause for alarm... if Snape could bring himself to care. Just to be on the safe side he bound and gagged his captive with the conjured ropes of the _Incarcerous_ spell, even though the indications were that Gallymot was out for a good long while. Then he checked Trusker. The investigator was also unconscious but otherwise appeared to have suffered no lasting harm. He was going to have a nasty bump on the back of his head from where he hit the ground, however.

Snape expelled a sharp breath: now what? No doubt the world would be a nicer place without Gallymot – and attractive as it was to contemplate wiping him from existence – it would be best to let the Aurors deal with him.

Snape frowned; he couldn't just wander up to the Ministry of Magic, Gallymot in tow. Perhaps he could leave the inconvenient bastard trussed up somewhere else then send an anonymous message? Too risky, he decided. True anonymity was tricky without careful preparation and he didn't have the time to spare. Snape ground his teeth together as another idea swam unwelcome into his mind. He could always... Lupin... might be willing to help.

It was with a heavy feeling of inevitability that Snape conjured his Patronus and sent it off with a short message incorporating a simple locator spell. Then he stood to one side, and waited.

He was expecting the first _pop_ of apparition; the second froze him in his tracks.

"Drop the wand, Snape." The Auror loomed out of the darkness like an omen of doom.  
"Shacklebolt." He flicked a sardonic glance at Lupin. "What an unexpected pleasure."

The werewolf lifted his shoulder in a self-conscious shrug.

"Kingsley was with me when I received your message."

Snape's lip curled; Lupin looked and sounded like he was delivering an apology.  
"I said drop the wand."  
"Oh very well." Snape sighed and opened his hand. He kept his gaze locked on the Auror as his wand clattered to the pavement. "You have me at a disadvantage."  
"I doubt that very much." Shacklebolt's eyes were cold. "But I will not hesitate to blast you to powder if you so much as twitch. Where did you get the wand?"  
Snape half-smirked.  
"You don't have a spare, Shacklebolt?"  
"Not one that's unregistered, no."  
Lupin cleared his throat.  
"Ah, you have something for us?"  
Snape jerked his chin towards the fence without looking away from Shacklebolt.  
"Elias Gallymot."  
At the Auror's nod Lupin moved to investigate.  
"He's alive – " the werewolf's indrawn breath alerted Snape to the likelihood that he'd spotted Trusker. "What happened?"  
"Gallymot turned up unexpectedly for a chat; Trusk- the muggle got in the way."  
"'Got in the way'?" Shacklebolt demanded.  
"Gallymot was going to kill him – I took Gallymot down before he could."  
"And the Muggle?"  
Snape paused, knowing this wasn't going to sound good no matter his intentions.  
"I _stupefied_ then _obliviated_ him."  
"Did you have to knock him out?" The Auror rumbled.  
" _Yes_." Snape used the sort of tone one would employ in explaining something simple to a very stupid child. "Better that than have him blundering about in confusion."  
"You know him?" Lupin asked.

Snape paused again, unwilling to share the threads of his new life. That too, he realised, was inevitable.

"His name is Phillip Trusker. He's a private investigator... I work for him."  
"Work?"  
"Yes, _work_." Snape snorted at the auror's disbelief. "My employment prospects being what they are I can't afford to be choosy." He couldn't resist another brief, mocking glance at Lupin.  
Shacklebolt narrowed his eyes.  
"You're coming back with me. The Ministry would like to know why you're not dead."  
"No." Snape growled.  
"Yes." The Auror was implacable.

The two men glared at each other, but eventually Snape lowered his eyes. It was no use, he'd always known he couldn't outrun his past. He might be able to wring one concession though, before putting his life in the not so gentle hands of the Ministry.

"Very well. But give me one day, then I'll bring myself in."  
"Why? To do what?"  
"So _trusting_ , Shacklebolt." Snape sneered. "Because there are things here I can't simply walk away from."  
"Suddenly developed a conscience, Snape? There were plenty of _things_ you walked away from before."  
Snape refused to rise to the bait.  
"I ask for one day, then I will return."  
The Auror's jaw was rigid.  
"Go to Grimmauld Place. There'll be a riot if you appear at the Ministry." Shacklebolt's grin was deadly. "Be there this time tomorrow or I _will_ come after you." He gestured with his wand and a small ball of red light impacted firmly with Snape's chest, bleeding through his clothes down to his skin. A tracking charm. "And I'll have your wand."  
"Ah, Kingsley?" Lupin spoke softly from the side. "Is that wise? Gallymot's not the only Death Eater at large."

Snape could see that - personally - Shacklebolt wouldn't grieve if fifty Death Eater's descended out of thin air to tear him to pieces, but, if the Auror had one character flaw that could be used to advantage it was that he was eminently fair.

"All right, he can keep the wand. But only until I take him into custody."  
Snape inclined his head, just this side of insolence.  
"You're too kind."  
Shacklebolt gave him a disgusted look then turned to Lupin.  
"Is Gallymot fit to travel?" The werewolf nodded. "And the Muggle?"  
"I'll see to him." Snape interjected, then rolled his eyes at the Auror's evident suspicion. "I won't let him come to any harm."  
"One day only, Snape." Shacklebolt stated with quiet menace before levitating the still unconscious Gallymot towards him. Lupin followed, giving Snape a small, supposedly encouraging smile in passing.  
"If you dare to say 'it's all for the best', Lupin..."  
"I'm not suicidal." The werewolf's smile broadened though it still held something of a wistful quality.

Snape waited until the wizards had apparated before reviving Trusker.

"Come on, up." He helped the groggy investigator off the ground.  
"What happened?" Trusker shook his head, wincing. He gingerly probed the back of his skull then peered at his fingertips.  
"I don't think you're bleeding, but come inside and I'll check." He guided the Muggle with a firm grip on his elbow.  
"Smith, what happened? I remember..." Trusker's brow creased in concentration. "I don't remember." He glanced back over his shoulder and frowned. "I didn't park the car." He pulled away from Snape. "Better do that now, keep the lane clear."  
Snape grabbed his elbow again.  
"I don't think you're in any state – "  
"Can't leave it there!" Trusker protested. He had a point. Snape dropped his hand.  
"Very well. But you're _only_ getting in there to park it. Understood?"  
Trusker nodded absently, already moving towards his vehicle.

Snape watched intently as the investigator slowly and with infinite caution edged the car into the parking space. As soon as the engine cut he opened the door, extending a hand to help Trusker out of the car.

"No arguments. You're coming inside now."  
"Yeah, yeah... What happened?"  
"I don't know. You stopped the car, got out, then fell over. You should see a doctor."  
"I'll make an appointment tomorrow." Trusker shook his head again. "Can't see straight."  
"If it gets any worse I'll call an ambulance."  
"No, no, I'll be fine. I need a drink."  
"Tea only." Snape smiled grimly at his companion's grumble.

The wine had been the only casualty when he'd dropped the carrier bags, the rest of the groceries were perfectly undamaged, if a trifle damp. Which was ironic as Snape felt that he too could really do with a drink now. He dumped the bags on the kitchen bench before steering Trusker through to the sofa.

"Sit."  
The investigator pouted like a petulant child.  
"I'm _fine_."  
" _I'm_ not convinced." Snape fetched a damp face cloth from the bathroom. He sat beside the investigator and gently set to examining him. "Oh, don't be a baby." He snapped in response to Trusker's continual flinching.  
"It hurts!"  
Snape _humphed_.  
"Well, the skin's not broken and there's no fracture that I can detect. Your thick skull saved you from any real damage."  
"The Trusker's are legendary for their thick skulls." The investigator commented sourly.  
"Stay there, I'll get some ice..."

"Can I have that tea now?" Trusker asked plaintively, clamping the bundle of tea-towel wrapped ice to the back of his head. "Do you have any pain-killers?"  
"No, but the ice should help."

Snape was planning on using some basic healing and pain-relief spells as soon as he could get away with it without Trusker noticing. Though if the investigator did notice he could always obliviate him again. In the kitchen and safely out of sight of his guest, Snape caressed the wand in his pocket. It had been so long since he'd used magic; he'd missed it, felt incomplete without it, and the desire to _do more_ was a rising temptation. And tomorrow he would be handing himself over to the Aurors and likely wouldn't be able to use it again.

Unless... he _could_ run. The tracking charm could be broken, with care. For a moment Snape felt light-headed with the possibilities – then he slumped, leaning heavily on the counter. It wouldn't work, Shacklebolt would find him... the certainty of that, plus the thought of being on the run instead of merely hiding, was too depressing to contemplate.

He sighed and set the water to boil: he had yet to tell Trusker he was leaving.

  


"That's much better. The ice's really working." The investigator sounded surprised. Snape kept his expression neutral; he'd managed to whip up a little spellwork when Trusker's back was turned.  
"You'll be fine. Have you eaten yet?"  
"Not really."  
"I've got soup and bread – "  
"Smith? Something bothering you?"

Snape cursed silently: he'd forgot his employer's observational skills. But in a way this was better, Trusker had unwittingly opened the door, so to speak.

"I have to leave."  
The investigator frowned.  
"What d'you mean, leave?"  
"I'm tendering my resignation and giving notice on the flat." Snape held himself rigid. Trusker blinked.  
" _Why?_ "  
"I have... unfinished business to attend to. I have to go."  
"When?"  
"Tomorrow will be my last day of work."  
"That's unacceptably short notice!" Trusker snarled.  
"It couldn't be helped. I'm sorry."  
The investigator glared, then wilted.  
"I suppose... if you have to go..."  
"I do. I'm sorry, Trusker."  
"Do you..." he cleared his throat. "Do you need a reference?"  
"No – " Snape began, then half-smiled. "Yes. Thank you." 

A work reference from a Muggle would make no difference to the Wizengamot's opinion of him but it would be something _he_ could appreciate.

"I'll do that first thing tomorrow." Trusker stood, loitering awkwardly by the sofa. "I'm feeling fine, I'll go – "  
"Please stay."  
The investigator looked at his shoes.  
"I've never been any good with 'so long' sex."  
Snape smirked.  
"Think of it as 'thank you' sex, if that makes it easier." He rested his hand on the man's shoulder, squeezing gently. "You cannot comprehend the depths of my appreciation, Trusker, for the job, the flat, your... friendship."  
"Yeah, well..." the investigator shrugged, failing dismally at nonchalance.  
"Let me thank you properly." Snape murmured, moving closer. Trusker arched an eyebrow.  
"If it makes you feel better about leaving me shorthanded in the middle of several, involved cases."  
"It will."  
"All right then..."

  


~oOo~

  


The following morning, Jennifer almost spilt her coffee when Snape told her his news.

"You're leaving? Today? Why?" The girl looked bewildered.

"My past catching up with me, you might say."  
"But... What about Dad...?" she faltered, blushing, then clumsily changed direction. "I mean, he's not going to be able to find and train someone else quickly at this time of year."  
"I do regret the inconvenience but I can't stay."  
"Can't, or don't want to?" she snapped.  
" _Can't_."

Snape forced down his irritation, understanding it was a reaction most likely provoked by guilt. Jennifer was watching him closely, and perhaps his face had betrayed more of his thoughts than he anticipated because her shoulders drooped as the aggression borne of the instinct to defend and protect her father drained away.

"Oh. Right. It's a pity," Jennifer smiled tremulously, "I'm going to miss you, Mr Smith. You've told dad?"  
Snape nodded.  
"As soon as I could. I would have given him more notice, naturally, but circumstances didn't permit."  
"So, why the hurry?"  
He was distantly amused to see the curiosity the girl shared with her father begin to assert itself.  
"I'm not at liberty to say."  
"Man of mystery, eh?" Jennifer smirked at him. "Don't tell me, you're a long lost prince and you're going to reclaim your kingdom."  
Snape snorted.  
"You read far too much melodramatic fiction, Miss Trusker."  
She laughed.  
"It evens out all the boring psychology text books."

  


Snape spent the day diligently finishing off the outstanding paperwork. Concentrating on that very handily stopped him from dwelling on the uncertainty of his future. He was still cursing this turn of ill luck, still tempted to make a run for it; pick up the stash hidden in the forest and just _go_. There were several countries that didn't have extradition treaties with the Ministry of Magic. He didn't much fancy living in the wilds of Eastern Europe but if it meant his freedom...?

No, he was tired of living precariously, looking back over his shoulder, expecting treachery. Perhaps, if Gallymot hadn't turned up to shit over everything, he might have continued making a good life for himself in the Muggle world. Perhaps not - who was to say that someone else with a grievance wouldn't have eventually found him? 

"You done there, Smith?" Trusker, who'd been noticeable by his absence for most of the morning, appeared at Snape's side. "Come and get some lunch."  
"I'm not hungry."  
Trusker huffed, then sighed.  
"I want to buy you a pint."  
Snape smirked.  
"Oh, in that case..." 

The pub wasn't exactly local, but like the dingy café they frequented Snape had discovered that it was another of the investigator's favourite haunts. Trusker had places like this all over London; nothing much to look at but the fare was always excellent and he was known by name. It'd probably taken him years to build up the sort of rapport he had with the owners and staff of these establishments.

"Smith, are you in trouble? Can I help?"  
Snape glowered at his companion over his glass. ' _I want to buy you a pint_ ' my arse – he was fishing for information again.  
"Of sorts. You can't."  
"What sort of trouble?"  
Snape drew his fingertip through a ring of moisture on the table top, neatly bisecting the circular mark left by his glass.  
"Old trouble. The sort that always comes back to bite you, no matter how far you run."  
Smith nodded.  
"Ah, that sort." He lifted his glass in an ironic toast. "Good luck."  
"I really am sorry about this, Trusker. Given the choice I wouldn't be leaving."  
The investigator shrugged.  
"Shit happens. Keep in touch, yeah, if you can?"  
"You're on my Christmas card list." Snape drained his pint then set the glass down in front of the investigator. "Since you're buying..."  
Trusker rolled his eyes but heaved himself out of the chair anyway.

Snape allowed himself a moment to be maudlin as he watched Trusker lumber off in the direction of the bar. Dammit, he was going to miss the man - though he wouldn't put it past him to try and track him down. How far would he get, Snape mused, before he hit a dead-end? Had he already tried? He had to know that Tobias Smith wasn't his real name, yet still he'd employed him...

"Your drink, you tight bastard."  
Snape accepted the glass with a smirk.  
"Thank you. I'll get the next round, shall I?" Trusker's benevolent beam lasted all of a second. "But only one round. We've still got work to do."  
"After work, then?"  
Snape grimaced.  
"No. Still have to clear the flat."  
"Don't worry 'bout that." Trusker waved a hand negligently.  
"I'll get rid of the perishables, at least. You're welcome to the rest."  
The investigator lifted his glass again.  
"Knowing your exquisite taste in tea and biscuits, I'm happy to accept."  
"Wanker." Snape murmured into his beer, but he was almost smiling.

  


By mid-afternoon he'd caught up with all his paperwork and was debating what to do next to fill in the time when Trusker – who must've been watching him from his office – materialised at his side again.

"All done? Why don't you finish up in the flat now. Then you've got no excuse not to come for a drink afterwards."  
Snape quirked a rueful eyebrow.  
"You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?"  
Jennifer piped up from her station at 'reception'.  
"You should know him better than that by now." There was more than a hint of reproach in her voice. She'd been swinging between resigned and indignant all day.  
"It shouldn't take long."

Snape stood up. A final drink or two with Trusker would be welcome, to be honest, and if he overstayed and Shacklebolt had to come and fetch him then it'd be worth it to see the look on the Auror's face when he found the dreaded Death Eater drinking sociably with Muggles.

"I'm just going out for a bit, dad, yeah?"

Snape's sharp hearing caught Jennifer's request just as he was opening the back door. Curious despite himself he lingered long enough to hear Trusker's reply -  
"Fine. Don't be too long, love."  
\- before heading back to the flat for probably the last time.

Snape half-expected Trusker to follow him up the stairs... but he was left alone to get on with things.

There wasn't much to do, all told; pack his gear, clear out the 'fridge, strip the bed and put the linen - and towels from the bathroom – aside for washing. A small amount of washing up, a last hunt 'round for rubbish to be discarded and the task was finished. Snape shouldered his bag as he cast his eyes one last time over what had been his refuge. He was leaving it marginally cleaner than when he'd arrived – an odd, insignificant thing to be proud of.

"Are you sure you don't want to hang on to that?" The investigator asked when he handed him the key. "Just in case you need somewhere to go?"  
Snape was tempted, oh so tempted, but given the likelihood of incarceration for the rest of his natural life it would be easier in the long run to sever all ties.  
"Thank you, but no." He thrust the key decisively at Trusker, half-smiling to soften the action. "If I do need a place I can always come begging."  
"Ah, you'll have to see." Trusker was smirking. "I might've installed some other vagrant by then."  
"Do you often chat up the homeless?"  
"Only the ones that like ducks."  
Their smirks were reminiscent.  
"Why did you stop, that first time?" Snape enquired. Trusker shrugged.  
"You were paying attention to what was going on around you. I don't see that very often, in anybody. And, you know, I had a hunch..."  
"A hunch?" Snape couldn't help the mocking tilt of an eyebrow: Trusker and his ' _hunches_ '.  
"That there was more to you than meets the eye."  
"And was there?" Snape challenged, after a charged moment.  
"Oh yes." Trusker said softly. "There still is."  
Their gazes met and locked... and then slid apart.  
"So." Trusker scratched the back of his head. "Ready for that drink?"  
"If there's nothing else pressing."  
"Great! I'll leave a note for Jen..."

  


Trusker's daughter caught up with them at the pub a little later.

"Oh good," she smiled at Snape, "I can't stay but I was hoping to catch you before you disappeared." She shoved at him what was obviously a bottle wrapped in gaudy, silvered paper.  
"Thank you." His eyebrows rose as he delved into the wrapping to uncover a bottle of exceptionally good whisky. "Thank you, indeed."  
"You're welcome, Mr Smith." Jennifer dimpled then swooped down to brush an awkward kiss on his cheek. "Good luck."  
Snape nodded his gratitude.  
"Thank you for your help."  
"I have to go." She blurted, fidgeting, clearly at a loss for words. "I'll see you later, dad. Take care, Mr Smith." She waved back over her shoulder as she darted away. Trusker was smiling fondly after her.  
"She's a good girl."  
"She is." Snape agreed, regarding his gift with some affection. "That was very thoughtful."  
The investigator leant forward to scrutinise the label.  
"Bloody hell! She's never given _me_ something that good, not even for father's day. Are you going to open it now?" He glanced slyly at the bar. "Well, not here, obviously..."  
A corner of Snape's mouth lifted at the hopefulness in Trusker's tone.  
"Sorry to disappoint you, but no." He tucked the bottle away carefully in his bag. "It should be saved for a special occasion."

In truth, given his immediate prospects, he had no idea when that was likely to be, but it had been a long, long time since anyone had given him so rich a gift. It would've seemed disrespectful to guzzle it at the first opportunity.

The investigator huffed a regretful sigh.  
"P'raps when you've sorted out your 'trouble'?"  
"That would be appropriate." Snape flashed his companion a tight smile as he stood up.  
"Well, as I'm disinclined to share my bounty it would be churlish of me not to make it up to you in some fashion."

The best whisky the pub had to offer wasn't all that good but Trusker accepted the shot with a grin.

"Cheers, mate. Long life. Oh, almost forgot..." He dug into his pocket and retrieved a stout envelope. "Your reference."  
Snape, not without a little trepidation, gingerly unfolded the piece of paper within. He read through the contents with his eyebrows raised.  
"That was very... kind." He commented at last.  
"Not a word of it untrue." Trusker winked.  
"Even the truth can be couched to be misleading."  
"Don't sell yourself short." The investigator leant back and smiled. "I meant every word."  
"Thank you. You're insane, but, thank you." Snape replaced the paper in the envelope then glanced at his watch. "I should go."  
Trusker's face fell but he rallied quickly.  
"Goodbye, Smith."  
Snape stuck out his hand to shake and found it cocooned warmly by both of Trusker's.  
"Goodbye, Trusker."  
"It's been a pleasure, mate."

The investigator's lips quirked and Snape suddenly regretted that he'd never kissed the man. Despite their intimacy it'd never quite seemed the right thing to do and now, in the middle of a conservative pub crowd, it would be even less appropriate.

"Likewise."

The wizard bestowed one last smirk on the Muggle then turned and strode away before the regrets and uncertainty caused him to falter.

**Author's Note:**

> So, there's one more chapter to go - that just needs finishing from where I abandoned it in (probably) 2007 - and a possible epilogue that was never started.


End file.
